A Tale of Three Malfoys
by ChatterChick
Summary: Three generations were willing to fight for the pure-blood cause.


**A Tale of Three Malfoys**

by ChatterChick

Summary: Three generations were willing to fight for the pure-blood cause.

A/N Written for Round 6 of Grand Battle Challenge, Tom Riddle Era. There is one canon scene in this, so dialogue has been taken from that. Feedback is always appreciated, so let me know what you think. :)

* * *

"Riddle?" Abraxas Malfoy looked at the young boy. It was his duty as prefect to lead the new first-years back to their common room. Most of them were recognizable to him, the sons and daughters of other pure-blood families. Except for this one, this Tom Riddle. "Is that a _muggle_ name?"

It was absolutely shameful the people who were sorted into Slytherin these days. Salazar must be turning in his grave. The boy was poor, that much was obvious from his second-hand, or even third-hand, robes. Not to mention this boy had an unfamiliar, most likely muggle, surname.

Abraxas wondered if the sorting hat had done the unthinkable and sorted a _muggle-born_ into Slytherin.

There was a shift in the boy, something flashed behind his eyes. Those dark brown eyes somehow got darker. Abraxas smirked in amusement, it was going to be fun putting this one in his proper place. Did he think he was going to be treated as an equal?

"It was my father's name," Riddle told him. "The sorting hat said I have the blood of Salazar Slytherin in my veins. It must have been from him."

So the boy wanted to claim heritage to a school founder, as if that would make him something special. Abraxas could barely contain his snort.

"There are no Riddles in the wizarding world," said Abraxas. "And I certainly would have recognized the name if it had any connection to Slytherin."

"I knew up in a muggle orphanage," the boy explained, "Perhaps they gave me the wrong name then. Do you know who would be the closest relatives to Slytherin? I would like to meet my father's family. My foolish mother gave me to an orphanage when she died, you see. She told them to name me Tom, like my father. Marvolo like _her_ father, and then the surname Riddle, although she never said where the surname came from - "

It couldn't be.

Abraxas stared at the boy in wonder. The son of Merope Gaunt, descendant of Salazar Slytherin, had been dumped in a muggle orphanage? And just who had been this Tom? Had she shamed the line by diluting it with muggle blood or had she had an affair with some wizard named Tom. This was quite the riddle indeed.

"Marvolo you say," Abraxas drawled. "I recall a wizard by that name, Marvolo Gaunt, who could trace his ancestry back to Salazar Slytherin. Perhaps I could put you in touch with someone, see if we can reunite you with your proper family. Growing up with muggles must have been horrid."

"You couldn't imagine."

xXxXx

He wanted this.

Lucius told himself that again and again as he held out his arm and let Lord Voldemort give him the mark.

They said they mark felt like a kiss to those who truly wanted it. If Lucius had his wits about him, he'd think that perhaps it felt like the kiss of a dementor rather than a kiss of a lover. Today, however, Lucius was quite certain he was going to lose his mind. The mark burned deep within him, a red-hot flame as Lord Voldemort slowly traced his wand against Lucius' arm. It burned. It throbbed. It shot pain down the length of his arm and he trembled as he tried to hold it still.

He wanted this.

Lucius' eyes searched out those of his father's. Abraxas Malfoy gave a brief nod to his son.

He tried to think about how it would be worth it once it was over. Lucius would be marked as one of Voldemort's elite, one of Voldemort's closest allies. His father had been an old school friend of Lord Voldemort's and he had been a dinner guest at Malfoy Manor many times over the years.

Lucius was not ashamed to admit that he idealised the wizard as a young teenager. Voldemort was a captivating story-teller, sharing his adventures in Albania and other places. He'd talk about the magic he had learned out there, magic that the British Ministry tried to forbid them to use. He'd talk about his plans for Magical Britain.

And such plans they were! Voldemort would take back the Ministry from the downward spiral it had been going in. He'd push for stronger laws that would keep the power and wealth among the pure-bloods, as it should be. He'd lobby to remove muggle-borns from their homes earlier and have them placed with appropriate wizarding families. There would be laws forbidding marriage to a muggle. He'd stop the muggle world from slowly encroaching on the magical one.

When the time came that Lucius could pledge his support to his Lord, he was welcomed into the fold with welcomed arms.

Lucius gasped out loud at the pain, brought abruptly back to the present situation. He just had to get through this one task first.

He wanted this.

xXxXx

Draco's playroom had been turned into a battle field.

There were over a dozen plush animals all over the place, each locked in an intense duel. Magically animated plastic toy wizards and witches ran around the room, tiny rays of light coming from their pretend wands as they fought. In the middle of the chaos, Draco had eyes for only one plush animal; the phoenix, Albus Dumbldore.

Solemnly, Draco approached the phoenix, aiming his toy wand at its head. "I'm giving you one last chance to surrender. You can snap your wand and go live with the muggles."

The phoenix's beady black eyes stared defiantly back at him. Draco knew it was going to be a challenge. Albus Dumbledore and his army of blood-traitors and half-breeds had taken over the ministry, and it was up to Draco to stop them. Him, and his best friend, Harry Potter.

Harry, the stuffed dragon, was caught up in a duel on the other side of the room with Minevra McGonagall, the stuffed kneazle, Dumbledore's right-hand witch. It was now up to Draco to finish Dumbledore off.

"No?" Draco dramatically asked. "You leave me no choice. _Die_!"

A green light came out of the wand, although it didn't do anything. It felt like a rather anti-climatic defeat, so Draco poked the plush phoenix and it fell backwards.

There was applause from the doorway, and Draco spun around to see Narcissa standing there.

"You have me so worried." Narcissa clutched at her heart. "That was quite the duel."

"I'm the better wizard," Draco boasted. "You didn't need to worry."

His mother held out her hand to him. "Come, my darling boy, your grandfather has come for a visit."

xXxXx

The table in the back corner of The One Broomstick erupted into laughter.

Tom Riddle was a true blessing in disguise. The boy who Abraxas had almost dismissed as a muggle-born turned out to be the Heir of Slytherin. The boy had grown into a rather splendid young wizard. Charming, talented, cunning and had the right amount of disdain for muggles and mudbloods. He had quickly immersed himself into their world and if Abraxas didn't know better, he would have thought the boy grew up in it.

Indeed, many often forgot the poor circumstances around Tom's childhood. They choose to focus on the positive, that Tom Riddle was Slytherin's heir and he had returned to them to purge their world of mudbloods, blood-traitors and half-breeds. He was the champion their cause needed. Who else, but someone actually raised by muggles could testify to just how vile they were and how important it was to keep the worlds separate?

Abraxas eagerly listened as Tom told them how he killed a mudblood with his ancestor's monster and then framed it on some bumbling oaf, Rubeus Hagrid, in Gryffindor.

Walburga Black cackled as she made him retell it again and again. Her intended, Orion Black, leaned back and smirked. He was a few years younger and clearly thrilled to be allowed to sit with Tom Riddle. "Will you open it again?" He eagerly asked.

"No, Dumbledore's got his eye on me. I don't think it'll be safe to try again," Tom confessed. "But I think I found a way to re-open it once I'm gone."

xXxXx

It seemed that Lucius had been having this argument more and more with his wife lately. Every time he to leave in the middle of the night for another Death Eater mission, Narcissa would tell him to stay. She never pleaded, that was beneath her, so instead she demanded it.

"We can't afford to lose," Lucius told her. "It's more than our lives at stake, but our entire way of living. If Dumbledore and the rest of those muggle-loving fools had their way, they'd - "

Narcissa shook her head, and resorted to something that Lucius had never seen her do. Narcissa begged him.

"Please don't go, I couldn't bare the thought that something might happen to you. Things are getting dangerous, look what happened to poor Thaddeus Selwyn! That Alastor Moody killed him!"

"I need to go, now more than ever! I don't want to think what would happen to people like us if Dumbledore won. You and our child deserve the world."

Narcissa sucked in a breath, her slate-grey eyes widened for only a second. It wasn't often he could catch his wife off-guard, but Lucius thoroughly enjoyed it when he did. He loved the look of surprise, no matter how brief.

"I haven't said anything."

"You didn't need to."

He was one of the few in life who had earned a natural smile from her lips. Something he cherished, as Narcissa was absolutely breathtaking when she smiled. This was perhaps the most beautiful he had ever seen.

"Seven weeks, Healer Blishwick confirmed it this morning."

Lucius felt his own face relax into a smile that mirrored his wife's. He cupped her cheek in his hand, taking in the gentle, yet protective, look in her eyes. Narcissa would make a fine mother.

"We're going to be parents soon, Lucius, our first priority can't be our Lord any more. Promise me, if it's a choice between dying for our Lord and living for our child you'll pick our child. _Promise me_."

The choice was easy, Lucius had no intention of dying so young and leaving his family behind. Narcissa was right, of course. He knew his duty as husband and father must come before his duty to Lord Voldemort. The vow he swore to Narcissa on their wedding day was more important than the vow he swore the day he became a Death Eater. Yet the promise was a little harder to make.

"I promise. Now, let me go conquer the world. I think it would make a suitable birthday present for our first child."

xXxXx

Draco followed Lucius around Diagon Alley on his father's 'important business'. Lucius had promised if he was good today he'd buy him a treat and Draco was eyeing all of the stores for what that could possibly be.

There was a gaggle of red-heads outside of this second-hand junk store, a young boy and girl who looked to be around his age, a pair of twin boys and a tired and haggard looking woman who must be their mother. They were sorting through some of the bins outside that had a _For Sale: Only 1 Sickle!_ sign over it.

"If you see any wands, put them aside for Percy to try," the woman was telling them.

Draco turned up his nose, disgusted at the idea of buying someone else's things. He had a few possessions that had been someone else's, but _those_ were family heirlooms and that made them important.

"Junior Death Eater," one of the twins scowled at him.

Draco frowned. He didn't understand what the phrase meant, but he certainly recognized the disdain with which they said it. That was clearly meant to be an insult, and to _him_. Didn't they know who he was? He was a Malfoy, he deserved their respect.

"Father," Draco pulled on Lucius' robes after they were out of earshot. "What's a Junior Death Eater?"

"Where did you hear that from?"

"Those boys over there, the twins with the red hair," Draco pointed them out to him.

"Draco, don't point. Those are the Weasleys," Lucius explained. "You can tell them easily enough, red hair, freckles, and more children than they could afford. They're blood traitors; they rejected their own kind for muggles."

Draco had heard about blood-traitors before. They would dilute magical bloodlines with muggle blood, making them less powerful until there was no magic left. "Yes, but why did they call me a Death Eater?"

"A Death Eater is a great honour," Lucius quietly told him as he pulled Draco aside. "They are the few marked by our Lord, the one who will defy Death and come back and save us from the blood-traitors and half-breeds. We must keep these thoughts to ourselves, Draco, until it's more favourable to support those views."

"Like a secret?"

"Yes," Lucius smiled approvingly at him. "Like a secret. Now, I think ice cream is in order."

xXxXx

"My old friend," Abraxas greeted him. "It's been a long time."

He had been surprised when he received the owl that Tom Riddle was back in Great Britain and would like to meet with him. Tom, more commonly known among their friends as Lord Voldemort, had disappeared for ten years after being denied the Defence Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. Abraxas thought it was a bit silly, there were better ways to gain power or advance the cause than by being a school teacher. Tom should have been working on his political career.

As if reading his mind, Tom agreed. "Yes, I've had to put my political ambitions on hold, but I have returned now more powerful than anyone could possibly imagine, more powerful even than Albus Dumbledore."

Of course. That made perfect sense. Albus Dumbledore had slowly been gaining power and influence over the years, earning himself a number of prestigious titles and loyal followers. Tom Riddle would have needed to do the same. He had the power, now it was just a matter of getting the influence. Something Abraxas and the rest of Tom's old school friends were happy to provide.

"How can I be of assistance?" Abraxas asked. "I assume you've returned to continue with the plan. I've been slowly weaving a web of connections and influence throughout the Ministry, perhaps that may be of use?"

"I think your connections will prove to be of great use, but for now I was wondering if it wasn't too much to arrange a simple gathering of our old school friends. And perhaps some new ones you deem trustworthy."

"My wife is always happy for the excuse to throw a dinner party. I think a welcome home party would be appropriate."

"Indeed. I have one more favour to ask of you. I'd like to ask you to hide this in the Malfoy vaults." Tom handed him an old diary. "It contains all the secrets to opening the Chamber. It needs to be kept safe."

"Of course, my Lord."

xXxXx

"No," Narcissa whispered, her face pale and ghastly.

The unthinkable had happened. Lord Voldemort had disappeared after a confrontation at the Potter house. Their Lord had boasted so many times that he was immortal, yet the people were saying that a baby had killed him. The wheel of fortune had spun, and now the loyal Death Eaters found themselves at the bottom. It was only a matter of time before the Ministry started tracking them down one by one and hauling them off to Azkaban. Lucius couldn't bare to think what would happen to Narcissa and his son in his absence.

"No," she repeated, shaking her head. Her voice was much firmer than before. "You're not going to Azkaban."

"Trust me, I've been trying to think just how to get out of this. It just takes one traitor to sell me out for a lighter sentence, or the word of one of Dumbledore's precious Order members - " He had more than enough gold to buy off a few witnesses, maybe pay some people to look the other way. But there were a few who couldn't be bought, who would need to be dealt with. Crabbe and Goyle would sell him out in a heartbeat to save their own skin, unless he deposed of them first.

"Bring me my mother's wand," she said. "I'll Imperius you and send you into the Ministry, let them take it off of you and prove your innocence. Let them think you had been forced to commit those acts. You haven't left any evidence that could lead back to you."

"They'll find the spell on the wand, and they'll blame you instead - "

"Not if they never find the wand."

xXxXx

"Is it true?" Draco asked. He didn't want it to be true. He didn't want Harry Potter to be sitting in this compartment with a Weasley. He schooled his face into an expression of boredom, not wanting Harry to think he was only here because Harry was famous. They were going to be friends, _best_ friends. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

Now was the time he needed to make the impression. He needed Harry to understand that the Weasley's weren't good wizards, they'd just corrupt him. His parents warned him that Dumbledore might have hidden Harry away and influenced him, so he needed to be careful and bring him back to their world.

If Harry Potter was going to save them, then first Harry needed to be saved from the blood-traitors.

"Yes."

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," Draco casually introduced his two companions. In an attempt to sound impressive, he decided it would be best that he lead with his surname. "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

There was no recognition on Harry's face, but Weasley coughed covering up what sounded suspiciously like a snicker. Draco felt his temper rise. He wouldn't stand here and be insulted by a _Weasley_ in front of Harry Potter.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford."

"You'll soon find that out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. I can help you there." He stuck out his hand, waiting for Harry to shake it. His heart pounding in his chest, hoping he didn't bludger this first meeting too badly. His pride had taken over for a moment, but it was just a Weasley and no one cared about them.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry coolly dismissed him.

Draco felt his cheeks warm. His parents had been wrong. Harry Potter was not some apprentice to their lord. He was not the future champion of the pure-blood cause. He was the enemy.

xXxXx

There was so little time left for him, and so much to do. He had come down with Dragon Pox, and he grew weaker every day. The healers were saying he only had a few days at the most. Dragon Pox was deadly in infants and the elderly. Somehow, over time, Abraxas had become old.

His only son, Lucius, walked into the room. He was followed by his wife, Narcissa, and their son, Draco. This would be the last time he see them until they were reunited in death.

"Father," Lucius said. He gave a slight nod in greeting.

"Son," Abraxas returned. "Narcissa, Draco."

He presented Lucius with the diary, gesturing to the book on his night stand. "Our Lord's school diary," he told him. "Do not use it yourself, as it is tainted with Dark Magic, but it will aid another in opening the Chamber of Secrets when the time is right."

"Of course Father," Lucius replied. "Is there another reason you've asked us here?"

Narcissa had turned his son soft over the years, it seemed he was expecting some sort of sentimental farewell. Abraxas had much to say to them, but a heartfelt goodbye was not on the list. He did not know when Tom Riddle would return to life, but the Malfoy family would stand by him. Abraxas would not live to see his life's work achieved and how he was forced to pass it on to Lucius.

"A war is coming," Abraxas began, "And we are at the heart of it."


End file.
